


Fall From Grace Redux

by Cutesonas



Series: Animus-verse [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: aaron davis has a son, matt murdock is miles mentor, miles is blind, miles is sassy and rude, peter is aarons sons mentor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23552395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutesonas/pseuds/Cutesonas
Summary: There are universes like ours, and then there are universes where Miles Morales is from. A universe full of fully civilized planets, of years that have no longer been kept track on with silly numbers and instead names, in hopes to motivate the universe to change. To grow. To rise. And surprisingly, it works. As not only does Miles rise, but so does his cousin. but none in a way they expected. This is the story of two seeds growing within the cracks. Two seeds Named Austin Davis and Miles Morales.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Miles Morales & Matt Murdock, Miles Morales & Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Miles Morales & Peter Parker, Samuel Chung & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Animus-verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711699
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Prolouge

In latin, Principium means beginning. Beginning meaning a fresh start to something.

But we aren’t starting fresh. We never have. Every beginning, every start, do over has a dash of blood added to the equation. Grandma said that was because the devil takes on many forms. But she also said pimples were tiny curses from the fallen angels. So it was always hard to believe the words she spat. 

For a while I didn’t understand why she would say that. As I saw the worst actions of man as never the devil in disguise, but another iteration of Adam and Eve, to keep the sin within us fresh, and the rest of us rotten.

It wasn’t until Year Principium did her words replay in my mind. Like maybe I should’ve paid more attention to her while she was still breathing. Maybe she was onto something. 

Because that year, more than just a dash of blood was added to the start. As is needed for a summoning of the devil.

-M. Morales.


	2. Stay home with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you say goodbye to a friend going off earth?

Frigid. Freezing. Blistering. But none of that mattered. Not really. Not when Miles was in Brooklyn. And especially not with Ganke. Both were like a fire. But not the one that burns to the touch. The one that’s in your heart. The one that makes you forget the bad and the ugly. The one that makes your eyes focus on only the good.

That fire was love. A fire so large in his heart that he was unaware that there was always the uncertainty of tomorrow. So blinding that he was too preoccupied to-

“Miles!” His friend snaps, making his friend flinch as they sit on the snow stained steps. “Were you paying attention at all?”

Miles shook his head, but then his eyes locked with his friend's brown ones. And it slowly turned into an admittance of the truth. “Jeez, you’re worrying me, man!”

“What were you even talking about?” Was it really that important, that imperative to listen? 

“It’s about Venus.” Lee admits, his pitch growing lower, as if a whisper. 

“Oh.” Sure, Miles was aware of his trip, and how he was only for a couple weeks. Nonetheless it still made the fire in him die, crossing his arms to protect any flame still burning. “You sure you can’t just...stay?”

Ganke grin pitifully. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” His head facing the stars now. Already leaving his friend behind. “I’m leaving tomorrow. And I know, it’ll be hard to go back to school after New Years like that but-“

Warm hands were put on his friend's shoulders. “Don’t.” Miles reassured. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” He lies, with an even faker smile on his face.

The Korean boy lifted an eyebrow at that. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Really?” He chuckled, “when I first told you, you said you were gonna sneak on to head to Venus with me.”

“I have changed.”

“That was a week ago.”

“My point still stands.”

Both giggle like the kids they were and still are. The shoulder grasping turning into a hug. “Can you promise me you’ll be okay?”

Morales playfully rolled his eyes, still knotted into an embrace. “It’s only a couple of weeks.”

“A month, actually.”

“Same thing.”

Ganke then untied the knot, looking at Miles once more. And possibly for the last time. “Promise me.”

Morales crossed his heart in playful defeat. “I promise on my mother’s life.”

“Don’t joke like that.”

“What, do you really think I can’t do it?”

“No...” the best friend sheepishly lies. “I just....” he hugs him once again, this time so aggressive his friend is now on the cold ground. “I guess I’ll miss you too.”

“Then promise me you’ll be okay too.”

For a moment, there was a painful and unsure silence. And then defeat. 

“I promise.”


	3. The Unfortunate, Unforeseen And Unwanted Emancipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't leave me.

Hot. Amicable. Torrid. Yet not enough. Not even close. Inside, he was still cold, still frigid. Causing the teen to toss and turn in his bed, trying to latch onto any bit of warmth he was able to create. And for a second, he was actually beginning to drift. Peacefully. Gently, without any reason to rise from his hard earned rest. 

Yes, his eyes tight shut, breathing slowing. Austin Davis was without a doubt, a-

There was a shattering from the first floor of his abode. Making him rise unwillingly his heart bursting out of his chest, pumping blood into his legs and arms for an expected attack to defend himself against the intruder. Not hesitating as he barges into his fathers room, almost stunned at his absence in his bed. But that was a worry for another time. Pulling his bedroom drawer with utmost force and plucking out the pistol. Weighing and shaking it. 

Yeah, it’s loaded. Good.

So he gripped it, changing his stance, bending his knees like his father taught him. And finally, slowly but surely tip toeing the steps. The tall and scrawny figure cleaning his mess without acknowledging the sophomore. He has him just where he needed. 

“Get your ass outta my house before I fill your head with lead.” He sternly exhaled. Large words coming from a teen. But worth it, as the man puts his hands up. “Austin.” The shadow speaks in a deep tone.

“How the FUCK do you know my name?” The teen begins to tremble, yet still lodges the gun to the mans head now. “You been stalking me? You know my dad?” His breathing isn’t so loud, so desperate to keep the terrified boy going. “SPEAK MOTHERFUCKER.”

“Austin.” The silhouette says again. “I am your Dad.” 

There’s then this indescribable silence between them. As the gun lowers to the ground. Austin’s eyes grow wide and tearful. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Aaron assures, lowering his arms to wrap them around his beloved son.

“No,” Austin denied, stepping away from the hug. “I was boutta, I was about to-“

“You didn’t know.” He hums, stepping forward. “And I deserve it anyways.”

His son once again shoulders off the embrace. “Wait, what?”

Aaron huffed, ruffling his sons hair softly. 

“Why did you say that?” 

His eyes creased, full of gloss that shined in the nearby streetlights of the city.

“Dad.” The sixteen year old begged. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

The young teen was growing more and more puzzled at his guardian. “Then why did you-“

“I’m leaving, Austin.”

.....

....

...

..

.

The kid laughed, like actually. Snorting, cackling, wheezing, the whole nine yards. “Where are you going?” The boy asks amusingly. “Canada?”

“I won’t be far.” His father continues. “Just going up a few burrows. Is all.”

Austin’s smile soon fades, brows lowering. “This isn’t funny anymore, Dad.”

“Cause I’m not joking kid.” Sweeping up the last bits of glass from earlier.

“Wait,” his son looked at the glass shards with disorientation. “You’re leaving? You’re leaving me alone?”

“No-“

“Why?” Ah, look what you have done Aaron, he’s crying. Your son is crying, because of you.

“I don’t want to leave-“

“Then don’t!” His son pleaded, pushing his father away from the door. Despite the fact that both knew he was not strong enough to keep him here with brute force alone.

Aaron sighed, rubbing his hand down his face. His heart beginning to squeeze, so hard it could kill him. “My brother agreed to keep you at his place.”

This however didn’t please his poor son.

“Look, you can’t come with me-“

“Why-“

“BECAUSE IT'S NOT SAFE, Austin.” The man shrieks, shaking his son aggressively.

His head then sank as he came to his senses. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m just- I’m doing this for your mother.”

“And for you. For both of you.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Yes, I do.” His father reassured him. “I’m not gonna dip into your college funds for her chemo.” 

“But- I need you.”

“You need your mother, not me.”


	4. The Spark

Day one without Ganke Lee. Day one without a friend. Day one of solidarity. But in actuality, it hasn’t been a day yet. It has only been half. It has only been three school periods out of the six, about to head to the next block, but Morales was used to this. He has been used to this since the third grade when Ganke had to go to saturn for a wedding. 

So with a simple and small greeting from his music teacher who always seemed to be teaching anything but her assigned subject, Miles went to work, fixing up his song, adding and subtracting notes like math. His glasses help keep track of which note to play, and where his dainty fingers should be. For without them he wouldn’t know c sharp from d minor. And for a moment he could assure, argue even, that he didn't need Ganke for this split second of the day. That he didn’t need anyone. That this was a thing he can do without the agonizing knowledge that the only living breathing soul around was him. 

Because when you’re Miles Morales, when you’re a son of an almost star who still sings like Beyonce in the kitchen, you don’t see the notes as sound waves. You see them as your beloving mother. Your family fire. Your hug. Your reminder that New York isn’t cold and bitter as tourists claim it to be. That there are little moments where those sound waves even hug you on the street. Such a feeling the kid could never fathom to put into words. So of course, he didn't put them into melodies, harmonies, songs and whatever else involved the ears. 

So much so that he did this, that his career, his electives and future hinges on his talent, his skill that he has perfected since he picked up the violin in fourth grade. So of course, in the music room, as he ticked off notes to signify their death, he was not alone. Not really. Because- 

There was this girl. This- schoolgirl, this adolescent, this- 

“Alicia.” the boy with large spectacles blurted out unwillingly. Pushing up said spectacles to get a better look at her. He has seen her many times but it wasn’t like he cared or someone was counting each consecutive flustered glare he gave her in the halls, or in english. No, nobody was. So why was he beginning to sweat so much? She's just a girl, just a girl with really nice braids, with an actress smile. A girl who always wore the best outfits. A girl who-

“Uh, yeah.” she chuckled. “How’d you know my name?”

Before the puppy eyed kid could answer, she did for him. “Were you on the football team last year?”

“Uh-”  
“Nah, you’re too scrawny, you must’ve been in the audience then.”

“Well-” he attempts, checking if she has any more to say. Which she obviously didn’t so just, speak, speak god dammit! “I sit behind you, in history? And we also have english together.”

“Oh.” the girl squinted, tilting her head to get a better look. And finally shooting a playful finger gun as she clicked her tongue. “You’re the morales kid, right?”

“Yep, thats me…” Miles trails off, playing with his hands. “The Morales kid.”

“God I barely recognized you for a second.” she bluntly admits. “You’re so quiet in class I forget you’re there sometimes.”

The boy squeaked, “uh-”

“Oh my god,” the rich girl gasps. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine-”

“No, no it’s not. I didn’t mean it like that.” her hand still on her mouth in shock. “I’m sorry I- that was rude and I shouldn’t have just barged in here unannounced like that-”

The Morales kid turned her entire body around now, reaching out to put his hands on her shoulder, but nevertheless put the arm down. “It’s...fine. I get it.” on the contrary though, “Wait, why are you here? You don’t take piano.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t” she admits giggly, gripping her uniform sleeves in embarrassment. “God, I’m such a mess, I’m sorry. I just-” she seems at a loss for words, gesturing at him choking on whatever she was planning to say. “I could hear you outside, is all.”

“You could?”

“Yeah! Not that it’s bad or anything.” she aggressively reassures, in a way to make up for her sudden bluntness from before. “It’s actually, really good! And I wasn’t really selling any tickets out there so-”

“Tickets?”

“Yeah! For the poetry slam? I doubt anyone will show but-”

“When is it?” 

Stunned at his impulsive questions, she smiles. He really was like a puppy. In a way, it was cute. “Tomorrow, at six. Think you can come?”

“Yeah, definitely.” already pulling out his wallet, “Can I get two? One for me and my c-”

Her hands, her soft, tender fingers wrap around his. As if there was something warmer than sound waves this whole entire time. And it was her. It was always her. It was the way she smiled, it was the way she sang when it was something she was excited about, it was the way her eyes looked like gold in the light. It was everything about her. So hot that he was sure that if he held his hand any longer he’d get a burn scar, second degree.

“That’s...not needed.” she rips off two crimson tickets from her large wrap, indication that she really wasn’t exaggerating when she spoke about her doubt of a large audience. “On the house, sorry about earlier.” 

Miles smiles, filled with nothing but an eternal flame for Alicia. “Thanks.”


	5. The Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family doesn't mean dick.

So, there you are. Waiting out in the cold, sitting on your suitcase, shivering in the crack of dawn, next to your father who is next to you. As one does. As Austin does. On the first day back from winter break. Just waiting. Just sitting there, as if you two were just watching the grass grow. And as more time festers, Austin can’t help but notice his father's lack of an apology for the sudden absence. He didn’t explain anything either. He just said he was leaving. 

The teen looks at him brows lowering. Fuck you. You decide to leave now, when mom needs you? When your own son needs you? His head then turns to the red car pulling up, the window rolling down. Fine. Leave. Like you always do. It’s not like your son needs a father figure or anything. Nah, you’ve never been around, not really. You just gave him gifts and then went off to work. This is nothing new. 

So with that, the trunk of the car unhatches, and it’s lifted by a muscular, tall man. His hands gestured at the teens luggage. “Here, I’ll put it in.” His supposed uncle promised. Gently placing the suitcase into the practically empty trunk. Davis Jr. could only stand there idly, analyzing the man's facial structure. He could sorta see his dad in him. But at the same time it was looking into a stranger's face. 

Then there was his wife. Angelic, beautiful in every way possible. Even her wrinkles, eyebags and subtle grey hairs were a masterpiece. Even if she was already in his nurse scrubs, even if she put an oversized winter coat to warm herself. She was...so soft. So warm. A breath of fresh air. He always envied his little cousin for the lucky genes he got. To be related to this woman by blood. Sure, his mother was just as amazing but-

Never mind that. Austin let the adults speak, his mind now curious as to where exactly was his little cousin. Man, he must have aged since the last time they spoke. How old is he now? Like, seven, right? It hasn’t been that long. His head turning to the inside of the car, which still had one soul within it, gazing out of the window, writing something down. The young kid's glasses frame blue like his hoodie, and worn jeans. Odd. He didn’t remember miles having an older sibling. Nonetheless one this young. 

“The doors unlocked, baby.” Aunt Rio beamed at him, motioning with his hand to get in already. “Don’t want your getting too cold, we’ll be done talking in a second.”

The teen slowly reached for the door handle. “Uh.” His hand grips it now, slowly opening the door. “Thanks.” And with a single step in, and a slam he is surrounded by the car heater. A feet or two away from the mystery boy. Said boy gives him a quick glare, before humming in acknowledgement of his existence and then returning to his scribbling. 

Not a talker. Makes sense. Guess this kid was more like Uncle Jefferson rather than Aunt Rio. Even though he definitely had his mother's look, his expressions were so uncanny. He was young but the thick eyebrows? The doe eyes that he turned sharp with his constant frown? Dainty thin hands? Oval face that turned sharp with his unamused expression? There was no doubt about it. This kid was a Davis alright, but still his mother’s boy.

“You gonna say something or are you gonna stare at me?” Mystery boys finally asked, not even looking up from his notebook once when speaking.

It took a moment for Austin to process that. His voice was definitely his mothers. Ironic that a young boy's voice can be so smooth, like a fluffy blanket, but at the same time. He had to admit, it was really cute. Like a grumpy little feline. And weirdly familiar. 

“You look familiar, like, really familiar.”

He hummed. “Probably because we would team up to find eggs on Easter when we were younger.”

“What?” Austin chuckled. “That was Miles, he was like, three.”

This time there was no hum to the boy. His head simply turned to face his cousin. Eyelids drooping in lack of amusement. “I am Miles.”

The cousin giggled at that, hard. Been slapping his knee like he was some cartoon character. “You funny bro.” He wheezes, wiping a tear from his eye. “Nah but seriously where is the little guy? Is he at home sleeping?”

The fake older brother closed his notebook, officially shifting his body to face his cousin. “Do you really think I have been a toddler for the past decade?”

The sixteen year olds Adam’s apple bobbled, fumbling with his hands. “Well when you put it like that you’re making me sound stupid.”

“You’re making yourself. Sound like that all on your own.” Ouch. Since when was little baby Miles such a grinch? Or was that just because he was thirteen or so now. “Wait, has it really been a decade?”

The poor middle schooler rolled his eyes. “Yes. Now please leave me alone.” He huffs, flipping through his notebook pages, all filled with handcrafted songs. One after another. Sometimes coupled with self disciplinary notes and corrections written in red ink. “I’m busy.”

Before Austin could comment on his amazing skill he somehow crafted and perfected overnight, the car doors opened. Followed by quick goodbyes from his aunt and uncle. Rios hair reflecting in the rising sun. Her laugh and nicknames for his father making Austin feel already calm. And then his window slides down without Austin commanding it to do so. His father's head was facing his. His lips rising to form a smile.

However something about those eyes. Those sharp, small yet familiar eyes. The ones he has grown up sixteen years knowing. Surprisingly what he saw in those eyes was not his reflection, but rather, a fire. Of love. Yet this was worse than awful timing. As the learned knowledge of Fire added gasoline to the fire of rage his son had. 

“I’ll see you around, and I’ll text.” His father swore to the heavens. “I love you, Austin:” he reveals. Ruffling his son's hair once more. 

“I know, dad.” 

And then there was this god forsaken pause of painful silence. As the window rolls up. As the car drives out of Austin’s old neighborhood.

And finally, the old school police officer says what everyone was thinking. “You gotta say I love you back.”

Finally, after a painfully long drive, they arrive back home. Austin getting a good look at the place from the outside. It was like a beanstalk, lanky yet shadowing him. White steps leading up to the equally white door and walls. Very minimalist. Clean, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit jealous. 

Pulling up his luggage up the steps as his uncle let his hand scan the door to allow entrance, Austin groaned. “So uh, what floor are you guys on?”

“Miles” gave him a look, before rolling his eyes. Which was noticed by his mother, who made him apologize. 

“This isn’t an apartment complex sweetheart.” She explained, with a smile that gods would kill for. “It’s a townhouse, nothing big.”

“Oh.” The door opens, the soulless voice on the intercom beginning to speak. Welcome Jefferson Davis. Welcome Rio Morales. Welcome Miles Morales. Welcome Austin Davis. We are very happy to have you here.

Instantly the guest looked up in awe at the gentle voice that had no body to match it. So his aunt was really middle class, huh? The house from the inside looking like a mansion to him. From the holographic paintings on the wall to the todo list on the fridge that changed colors every few minutes. From the light table in the living room full of games, shows and unanswered emails. To the recipe list hovering in the kitchen waiting idly for someone to claim them. It was beautiful, and it was only the beginning. 

“Y’all don’t have a robot?”

Rio raised an eyebrow. “Why would we? Clara is all we need.” 

“Oh.” Austin stuttered. “I just figured y’all would because like, a lot of people I know have robots since they’re cheap.”

“Ohhh.” She hummed. “Nah, Jeff never liked the idea of a robot doing our job of raising Miles. And I don’t either.”

Huh. He never thought of it that way. Smart.

But his amazement was soon then interrupted by his uncle and his cousin, whom busied themselves in a screaming match, arguing about how they were already late, while his younger cousin reassured them they still had time. Said cousin already changed into a uniform. Slipping on his shoes. Causing an odd glare from his cousin as his aunt led him to where he’d be staying. Into a dim hallway that was then lit with fairy lights with a single clap of Rios hands. Revealing the gifsets of Miles' childhood all around the walls. With little giggles and cheers from the living photos. And with these long glances at the picture frames on the wall, Austin began realizing that Miles wasn’t like that because he was thirteen. He was like that because that’s who he is. 

He really is a Davis.

And finally what seemed like a never ending hallway finally came to their destination. The door pink text reading “Billies room.” That name was oddly familiar. Maybe miles did have an older sibling after all. 

“Is...billie off in college? Or something?” Austin asks, feeling an odd vibe as he entered the purple painted room. Lit up by fairy light once again trickling down from behind the bed. Throwing his suitcase on the bed, confused. The room was definitely once owned by someone of maturity. Only three stuffed animals in total being found. Walls barren of posters, however intricate paintings and sculptures were left behind. The bed even, revealing amazing colored sheets. And old mood candles around the work desk. 

Aunt Rio nodded, “she’s on Saturn right now. She left last night.” 

“And she’s cool with me staying?”

“You’re family, why wouldn’t she?” 

In advance of Austin opening his mouth again, there was a slamming of the front door, followed by more bickering from outside until both men were in the car, speeding away. Causing his aunt to chuckle awkwardly. 

“Where are they going?”

“Visions academy.”

Austin blinked. “Huh.” There was no reason to have a hissy fit after this new knowledge. But it was a slap of reality in the face. As he assumed the kid went to a public school as he didn’t seem like much of a prep to him. Not to mention to be such a prep to go to an actual school. As that was like, the very few percentage of kids. Most kids taking their education online. I mean it was cheap, affordable and you didn’t have to pollute the environment doing so. You just hopped on your VR set and bam, a couple of years and you get your high school diploma. Why sit in an entire building full of kids you don’t know for the same thing? Austin never understood it, but he has heard of Brooklyn academy. It’s far from the shit school Austin went to. So he really didn’t have a place to judge. But man, he was gonna bully his prep ass for sure. 

“Does he like it?” 

Rio hummed to herself, helping unload the clothing into the dresser. “He says it has its moments.” 

The boy chuckled at that. “Sounds like him.”

“Yeah, he really is his father's son.” The woman agrees. Before stopping her unpacking steadily. “You hungry? I just realized you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Oh. No, it’s fine. We can keep-“

“No. You gotta eat, boy! How else you gonna grow?”

“I mean,” Austin stuffed his hands into his pockets. “My dads pretty tall, I think- I think I’m set.” 

She laughed at that, before gently grabbing the boy's hand. “You still need to eat, niño.” 

“Niño means boy, right?” Sure, he took spanish but doesn’t mean he was good at it. Or that he paid attention to the lessons. Or that he was passing the class persay. He was just...taking the class.

“Yes, good job!” She cheers, clapping despite the fact that it was merely a guess using context clues. Not something to exactly cheer for. But hey, he’ll take it. And with that the woman grabbed the see through clipboard, tapping on it gently. Her eyes narrowed at her recipe. And then nodding when finally understanding. Commencing her plans. However a twist in his stomach began to twist inside, pushing him to rise from his stool in the marble kitchen island. 

“Do you...need help?”

“Oh, you’re sweet, but I’m fine.”

“Oh.” the boy's posture sunk. “Can I help anyways?” he sheepishly begs, knowing that sitting there and simply watching was well, utter torture in simple words. I mean, he was a grown boy, he knew how to cook food himself, he didn’t need his Aunt going through all this trouble for him. The least he could do was help, since she didn’t have to keep him here. 

She looked up and down, as a grin spread across her face. “You really think you can catch up with your Tia, boy?”

“Tia is aunt, and yeah, I think I can.”  
She made a mockful cooing noise. “Boy we both know Miles can make more food than you.”

“Nah.” Austin then put his hands on his hips. “I’m the black gordon ramsey.” 

That finally caused her to bust out roaring in laughter. And officially letting him assist. Immediately clicking as they shared recipes and tips for flavor and what toppings and spices they liked on their steaks and soup. And finally, they were done. Like, officially, digging in without a pause to breathe. Rio checked a notification on her phone, her eyebrows immediately rising in a fictional lightbulb flickering above her head. 

“You like science?”

He froze, the spoonful of an orange chunky liquid steaming a couple of inches away from his face. “Not, really…?” he answers, trying to kindly communicate the fact that he is a dunce when it comes to actual school stuff. “I’m not very good at it.”

His aunt frowned. “I see.”

“But like, I mean, not really is an exaggeration. I like science, it’s really cool but like, I'm not good at it.”

Amused, his aunt bought that. “Okay science boy. You want to go out with me and Miles tomorrow then? I scored an extra ticket for a tour at oscorp.”

Oh god. Oscorp? That place is for like, real eggheads. No wonder Miles is going, but- no? He’s not suited for that. No way in hell he was. Nonetheless he sat there, with a crooked smile. 

“Fun.” Austin lied.

“Right?” His aunt agreed, eyes lighting up. “I think you two boys will enjoy the activities you get to do there.”

Haha yeah. Sure, okay. Whatever you say Aunt Rio. If you consider fun doing puzzles and playing with things Austin still doesn’t understand to try to occupy and busy himself from the fact that his dad left him with a family he hasn’t seen in ten years because his uncle and him are both stubborn asses then sure, that’s fun. So fucking fun. But who knows, maybe she’s right. It could at least be interesting. And be nice, your Aunt is doing what she can, it’s not her fault her son is a big fucking nerd. 

Then something beeps. The fridge reveals large bulky red text. Announcing Austin’s tardiness to school. 

“Shit.” He mutters, immediately heading towards the sink, only for Rio to grip his arm gently.

“We have a dishwasher boy, no need to wash by hand.” 

Austin didn’t even bother acknowledging how different that was to his home, and dashed to the purple room, slamming the door on impact. Connecting wires to a large bulky box, pulling out disks from his backpack, shoving in the mint green disk into the box, and slamming on his worn and aged helmet, lying on his bed and letting his eyes fade.

And thankfully, when upon opening his eyes, was in an entirely different world. A brown school building a couple of feet before him, other students as late as him rushing in with desperation. Running down the halls. The bell is not even chiming anymore. Just the excruciating lull of three or four students racing to their assigned homeroom class before the rooms lock on them. Lights from the false outside world peering in and blinding Austin's vision. Clouding his rational thinking as the number of his classroom suddenly slipping his mind. Come on, it has to be here somewhere, right? It just has to be. He’s had the same homeroom class for the past two years now. It has to be here-

“Powers!”   
Left, or right? Where is-

“Yoohoo~ Austin Powers?”  
Fuck it, he’ll go left, see how that goes.   
“AUSTIN DAVIS.”  
The boy flinched, turning on his heel. His expression relaxes only a little bit. Recognizing the voice. “That’s me…” He whines embarrassingly, ah Terry Tennant. Ever the tardy man himself. 

The tall, boney white boy grins at him sharply. Piercings in multiple places in his ears. Thank god for the Dress Code For All of year Loco or else he’d be suspended for weeks for wearing something so edgy and disrespectful to any prep in a five mile radius. But thankfully for Austin he was far from a prep at all. For this white boy was one of his best friends since the year blight. And a local homeroom classmate as well.

“Boy am I glad to see you, Ter.” he sighs, “You overslept too?”

Terry scratched his head, “You could say that.” aggressively wrapping his arm around the shorter one, slowly marching to their mutual destination. “But how the hell have you been? While you were stuck here, on earth I mean.” ah, Austin had almost forgotten. For the entire break and possibly even more so the russian punk had been spending his time on Mercury with his cousins and their hot russian partners who are legally able to drink over there. Terry was probably hungover all the damn time in the wee early hours on new years. 

Austin hummed, the moments from this morning replaying in his head. The crash of the plate, the gun, the packing, the reunion, the car ride, the talk, all of it took over the peace and relaxation he had merely hours before. So, he finalized his decision on what he wanted to say. “Oh you know, chillin’.” 

“Chillin’?” Terry asked, creaking open the door to the classroom. “A new york local on new years break was just chilling?”  
The entire classroom looked at the two with wide eyes as they stepped to their seats in the back. Their teacher glaring literal lasers into the back of them as they continued their small talk. 

“Yeah I mean, nothing special happened.”

“Boys-” the blue figure cleared his fictional, coded fake throat.

Terry raised his eyebrows in utter shock. “Austin Davis. Did nothing special.”

“Excuse me-” the professor uttered once more.

“You say that like I’m some lady killer.”

“Cause you fuckin’ are, man! If I know anyone in the galaxy then it's you.”

The tiny blue mechanical man finally raised that loud and coded voice of his. “PARDON ME.” he began, causing the other students to flinch in reaction. Finally grabbing both of the boys attention. “You boys cannot just- walk into my classroom.”

Their heads sunk in sudden embarrassment.  
“I’m afraid I must contact the administration.” shit. Shit. fuck. Oh god this is not a good look. Austin gave his partner in crime a look, as if the russian teen could do anything. Terry was well aware that meant cancelling their possible gigs lined up this week. The band are gonna fucking kill them, god dammit. “Er, whoever you two are exactly.”

And so they sat there, the clock ticking, announcing their last couple of minutes in detention. The guitarist half asleep in the almost empty classroom, meanwhile the scrawny boy bounced his foot impatiently. Staring straight into the dazed and slightly snoring babysitter. Squinting as hard as he possibly could. 

“Why do robots sleep if they don't need it?”  
Austin groaned, turning his head to his friend. “They do.”  
“No, they don’t.” Terry argued, pointing at the green woman with glasses fast asleep again. “She doesn’t need sleep, dude.”

“Yes she does.”  
“Oh really?”

“Yep.”

He raised his eyebrow in suspicion. “Why?”

“Because she has to deal with your sorry ass.” he giggled, smirking cheekly before yawning, the lack of sleep from this morning finally getting to him. 

Without hesitation, Tennant whacked his friend on the head. “You asshole, I thought you were gonna give me some profound answer.” his friends frown then turned into a small, very tiny smile. “If I wanted to hear that I would’ve asked my mom that shit.”

Thereupon was a light paused, as the both got their breathing levels back to normal. The clock is still ticking. They were almost home. Almost free. “Speaking of, how is your mom?”

The sleepy boy grumbled, almost leaving his friend on a cliffhanger. And then, very maturely, giving his friend a thumbs down, blowing a raspberry as his eyes were half shut closed.

“Still bad, huh?”  
His friend took his silence as a yes.   
“She’ll get better man, you just have to be patient! Look, my great uncle also had cancer and he’s still-”

“Ugh.” Austin put his hands on his face, back still arched on the table. “Look, I appreciate what you’re doing Tere, I do.” he then sighed. “But I’m just, not in the mood.”

The beanie wearing punk eyebrows creased in concern. “Right. You had a long day, huh?”

“Yup.”

“I’m sure it’ll get better.” there was no response from his friend. Causing Terry’s soft heart to twinge a little in sympathy for his friend. I mean, his mom is already sick, and then he unleashes a bombshell that his Dad left him to live with, get this- his uncle he hasn’t seen since he was six. Like, seriously! Who the hell does that? And to make things worse, he wants this to be a secret. Like always. And all you can do is just, be there. Which somehow feels like torture.

“Yeah.”

And finally, with that, the boy opened his eyes back into the real world. Rummaging through his bag for his work uniform, feeling a bit odd waking up in such a nice and neat room, nevertheless that he wasn’t recovering from the adrenaline rush from going absolutely batshit on his guitar for his bands fans. No sweat from screaming into the mic with his lead singer. Just, mild AC and the murmuring of a News channel playing in the other room. Shit, he didn’t miss dinner, did he?  
He opened the door, the three heads turning to him immediately. Rio gave him a sullen glare as she halted her dishwashing. Okay, so he totally did miss dinner, great. First night too. Man, he's gonna be so late to work after this lecture. He could feel it in his lanky awkward teenage boy bones. And he was right! He was so fucking late, not to mention that pipsqueak mcgrump Morales suddenly wanted to invite him to a poetry slam like they’re all buddy buddy now. Causing the veins on the older teen to bulge in seeping outrage of how this whole day was. And sure, Miles took note of this, however did not say a word, his judgemental eyes staying behind his glasses, and in his large, half finished digital book as the hover sub whizzed under the city streets, faster than a horse.

“Why the hell do you want me to go to this anyways?”

Austin glared at him, his veins pulsating as he was dripping in sweat after a busy shift at work. “Because it has been ten years. And I...missed you…?” Miles failed at lying, his head tilting and eyes narrowing as if he was asking for permission to go out. God, he really is a prep. And a big one at that.   
“You have never lied in your life, have you?” 

“I’m not-”

“You fucking suck, kid.”

“You’re not that older than me, you know.” the terrible liar argued.  
“Yeah well, get better at lying, grow a couple of inches and I’ll consider not calling you that.”

And finally, Austin got the peace and quiet he wanted since this morning in bed. “I don’t like lying.” Miles adds, ruining the peace.  
“Pipsqueak I’ll be frank with you, I don’t care. Kapeesh?” he phrases harshly, his leg bouncing aggressively, wondering why the hell it was taking them so long to go to this poetry slam thing. “You’re family but that doesn’t mean dick to me. Okay? I just had the worst day of my fucking life and I don’t need some middle schooler to make it worse. I just want to get through today, pay off my mom's hospital bills, play with my band members and hightail it all the way back home. I don’t give a shit about whatever you’re planning. You got that?”  
After that bit of word vomit, Austin sighed, putting his hands to his face. “That was rude, I’m sorry, I don’t mean that.”  
“Yeah.” Miles then closed his tablet, containing his book. “I think you do.”

“What?” Austin chuckled awkwardly. “Miles, no I don’t.”  
“My dad says people laugh when they lie.”

“I-”  
“You meant every single word.” shit. “I might be younger than you but I’m not stupid.” fuck. Shit. he's gonna tell his parents, isn’t he? He is, he so is. And they’re gonna take his word on it because the little runt doesn’t even have detention in his private school, does he? Whatever, just get ready to lie your way out of it. Because unlike Morales, you fucking can.  
“But since I don’t like lying, I’ll tell you the truth. I also don’t give a shit.”

Huh? 

“You’re family but you mean dick to me.”  
Wait, hold on-

“I’m just bringing you along because I know my mom trusts you to take care of me.”

And finally, the sub stops. People unloading and loading in and out from every door. Austin is barely able to catch up due to the brutal but fair words of cruelty from his younger cousin stunning him beyond belief. “Hurry up.” the thirteen year old orders, somehow able to weave through the crowd all the way until both are on the surface. On the contrary that's exactly when his luck fell apart. As the streets were filled with shrieks for peril, falling debris and explosions loud enough to put Austin and his band through retirement. 

Yet the tiny pipsqueak was doing his damndest to be a pain in Austin’s ass, inching closer to the eye of the hurricane. What was in the eye of the hurricane you ask? Ha. hahahah. Who the hell do you think? I tagged those red bastards in this fic in the first place.   
“Holy shit, its Team fucking Red.” Austin gasped, gripping his cousin's shoulder, in attempts to get the maggot away from the falling pieces of buildings that would most definitely kill him. 

Said younger cousin didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of them. “Really? You know, for a second I could’ve sworn it was X force.”


	6. The End Of A Normal Life/ The Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to wake up.

You know, as many adults do, they have to deal with kids. Doesn’t matter who you are, doesn’t matter what is at stake. Because you think kids give a flying fuck about your dinner plans? Your objective to save people from impending doom? You think they stop and think “wait actually, I’m stopping these three guys from saving civilians!” of course not, you know why? Because they're too busy insulting every little thing about you and your friends. And man are they good at that shit. Like crazy good. Like yeah, you have casualties to think about but man, some middle school brat just called Double D a self righteous prick, to his face! Sure, we’re all thinking it but he actually said it! 

“Deadpool, please.” the arachnid put a hand on his shoulder, in attempts from him to stop wheezing and get these two kids out of here. “We don’t have time to deal with this. We need those materials.” 

Wilson wheezed, slapping his knee. “Okay, Okay, I’m-” his white little eyes glanced back at the boy with glasses that took up half of his face, and his supposed older brother who had his arms wrapped around him in attempts to shield him from the chaos around them. And once again, the mercenary fell back into uncontrollable laughter. “I can’t-”  
“Jesus christ.” the devil groaned, rubbing his temples. “Why can’t you?”  
“He’s so small, Dee! Look at the little fella!”  
“Eat shit.” Miles spat, only to be shushed by Austin who laughed awkwardly and his mouth on the boy's mouth. “I’m so sorry Mister Pool, he’s uh, not usually like this.”  
Before Wilson could reassure the drastically less feral teen, the devil butted in his two tiny horns into the conversation.’Doesn’t matter, you and your little brother need to give us what you have, now.”

For some fucking reason, the two kids froze at that. “Oh, he's not my-”

“This asshole will never be my brother.” the tiny kid corrected, finally breaking out of his not-brothers grip. 

“Okay, first, I’m not an asshole-”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

And from there commenced a baby fight between two not-brothers. But unfortunately only the middle man, Wade found their show amusing. As after five minutes of screaming obscenities Spidey finally gave in.   
“Fuck it, plan D, double D.” 

“You take the smaller kid, I’ll take the asshole.”

“Aye aye.” the spider groaned, weekly saluting as he gripped Miles' arm with intensity. Dragging him further away from his not-brother. And Matt soon then followed, despite Austin's protests and allegations of suing him. 

“Uh? Yo, I don’t know if you two noticed but I don’t have a kid assigned to me.” Wade whistled to both of them, in case they both somehow forgot his obnoxious existence.  
“Yes you do.” the demon corrects, shoving the boy into an empty alley.\

“Don’t you dare say-”  
“You have Ellie.” 

“God dammit you know I hate it when you do that, Dee.” 

Meanwhile in an equally barren alley, was Peter, stuck having to convince some kid to give him something said kid isn’t aware is one of the most important things to the future of New York. 

“Kid, it’s been a long day and I don’t really feel like fighting so could you please just, hand it over?”

Miles looked at him blankly. And then a small smile creased from ear to ear. “Well since you asked so nicely, sure.” and preoccupied himself by rummaging in his bag. Pulling out a bulky, smooth black box, its outlines glowing and humming an ominous noise. Immediately prompting curiosity from the boy. His hands gripping, in attempts to open whatever it contained inside. Instantly prompting Spider-Man to snatch it out of the boy's hands. 

“Don’t.” the man ruled, holding said box to his chest, stepping away from the boy subconsciously. “You don’t want to know what's in here.”

The boy grinned innocently. “Okay.”

“No seriously, this is really dangerous.”

“Okay.”

“Kid I mean it.” his tone more serious now, “You were lucky you didn’t open it.”

Miles' hands began to sweat. “So lucky.” 

The spider's eyes narrowed at him. Causing the boy to swear even more now. “How come you're nicer to me than you were to my friend?”

“Oh I’m not.” Miles reassured bluntly. “I hate both of you. But I care about you less.”

“Ah.” Peter said, his hands not fumbling with the box. “Good to know.” he continued, leading himself and the kid out of the alley. His head scanning the perimeter for Daredevil. Finally catching him and the other kid coming out of an opposing alley, all while Deadpool sat on his phone playing angry birds. 

“Hey Dee, think fast.” the young adult tosses the box to the devil, who grips it firmly with his hands before letting it touch the pavement.

“Thanks.”

The mercenary sighed, this sucked. These two guys always get the cool mentors, the angsty backstories, the character development, but what does good ol’ Wadesie get? Chopped fucking liver. The funny punchlines and jokes, getting shot in places he doesn’t wanna think about and whatever the hell else people think is funny. This fic should be about him! He’s the real main character here, not some edgy Miles Morales and his cousin no one has ever heard of before. I mean seriously, Austin Davis is getting more word time than Wade fucking Wilson is? Man, what the hell is this?  
“Are we done here? Is my scene over?” Wade cried out impatiently to his two companions. “We can let Austin and Miles go now, right?”

Both boys looked at him, “How do you know our-”

“Oh you know, comedy reasons. Don’t worry.” he sighed, flicking the boys both on the head endearingly. “We’ll keep in touch, yeah?”  
Miles glared at him, bewildered. “Like I’d spend anytime with you.”

“Oh my god Dee, can we please keep this one?”  
Without hesitation, both Devil and Morales answered that one for him. “No.”

And so they went their separate ways, the boys back to the station as for sure the poetry slam was over by now and the crimson idiots to a local dumpster where they could talk shop in peace. “Well whatever, you both will eat those words later.” Wade adds, checking his text messages with Ellie.

Peter squinted at him. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it.”  
And like previously they were back on the hover sub once more. The stillness from the two caused Austin’s composer to deteriorate as his harsh words from earlier began to come back and haunt him. Poor kid, he didn’t need to hear that. Nor did he deserve it. And the fact that he knew that what he said came with at least a bit of honesty made looking at him all the more difficult. Yet despite not smiling his cousin seemed joyful almost, as if something about cursing out vigilantes was a competition he won. Which in a way he did as they gave up arguing with him. On the contrary, his cousin also gave up and gave the arachnid the box. Which in a way was odd. As any Davis can tell you, they’re ox’s they don’t give up easily.  
“So what did he say to you?” Austin asked. “To get you to give him the box, I mean.”

“I thought you said you didn’t care.”   
“And then I said sorry, okay?”

It took another painful moment of silence for Miles to speak again. “He didn’t say anything because I would’ve given it to him anyways.”  
“Oh.” that's odd, and weirdly nice of him. “Why…?”

“Because I have no need for a box.” Miles answers plainly and honestly. And he was right, he didn’t need the box. In fact what he really needed was what was in the box. That’s what mattered. More than anything really. You see, what was in the box was worth more than any diamond, any billions of dollars. More than any of those shitty MCU movies combined, worth more than the student debt of american college students. Because it was the power source of a machine. A machine that would-

“My boys!” Aunt Rio sobbed, the door sliding open via Clara, Uncle Jeff trotting behind, just as worried. Really making the group hug as suffocating as it definitely looked. But again, as is the norm since living with the family, Austin felt like the black sheep. As this hug was only meant for Miles. And that the only reason he was in it at all was for pity. But then Rio grabbed him by the face, and played twenty one questions with him. And uncle Jeff grabbed his own son's face to do the same. Sure, he should’ve focused on the woman talking straight at him, but he couldn’t help it. The Davis boys finally interacting? That had to be good.

“You alright?” his father began. “Did they hurt you?”  
“Of course not.” Miles began, trying to pry his father's hands off of him. “They’re dumbasses.” 

The officer then put his hand on his boy's shoulder, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Hey, what did I say about cursing?”  
“Sorry.”   
“It’s okay.” Jefferson took that apology, “Were you able to see her?”

Miles backed away. “See who?”

His father grinned, “You know.”

“Jesus Dad, stay out of my stuff!” Austin could tell from the octaves that were rising that his uncle was referring to a girl. Which caught him by surprise as he didn’t think the little shit had the capacity to love another human being. Seeing as he was as brutal as the disney corporation before they were taken down for monopoly all those years ago. But hey, the more you know right? And now he has some leverage.

“Did I ever tell you about how you and your mom met?”

The kid rolled his eyes. “Oh god, only like a thousand times.”

“Then you know what you gotta do-”

“Dad, don’t-”

“You gotta-”

“Dad-”

“Spill the salsa on her.”

“And you said it, oh my god.” the tiny asshole sighed, annoyed with his arms crossed facing away from his father. “I don’t need your help, Dad.” he huffed. “I told you a million times I don’t need anyone's help. I can-”

Jefferson wrapped his arms around his small boy, completely letting the words from his son roll off his back. As if he has grown accustomed to his son's prickly exterior. “Just because you don’t need it, doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop offering it. You know, in case you need it one day.”

His son's stuff posture fell, his voice almost sounding like a purring kitten. “Yeah well, that’s never gonna happen.”

“Whatever you say, champ.”

And lastly, the day was met with slumber. Slumber that put the three to bed immediately. Slumber that the millions living in New York were occupying themselves with as the night grew more and more dead. In spite of this though, sat Austin. Tossing and turning in the large bed he swore he could drown in. The temperature is too good, too perfect. Like any moment now, any point now, the perfection would end. As if something in the corner was waiting for him with utensils in hand, ready to feast on him and his family.

He hoped the sinking feeling would end by morning, and in a way it did. The filling of his stomach with orange juice and cereal along with a nice and cold shower made the trembles from early seem like a terrible, terrible dream. Hell, even school wasn’t so bad. If you ignored the low test scores as per usual, and the lectures of needing to apply himself by his teachers then you could claim it was a good day, risk free even. Except then he went back to the house in Brooklyn. The house that reminded him of the oscorp trip he lied to get himself into. So it wasn’t dangerous then, it was just nerd shit. That's fine. He can deal with that. Maybe he could get an Olivia Octavius sticker while there. She works at oscorp, right? Or was that some other chick? Ugh. who cares, stickers are stickers. 

Upon walking up the marble steps though, and looking up at the absolutely massive and soaring building on the horizon Austin couldn’t help but feel daunted by it. This was oscorp? A lengthy skyscraper? Covered in billboards with Norman's face on it selling new products? Looked more like a Macy's store to him. But he wasn’t surprised really. Everyone's gotta sell out nowadays. And finally, when he thought the sight of oscorp couldn’t be anymore intimidating it was. Like, holy shit you thought the outside was huge? Check out the fucking inside. The ceiling needed fucking hovershoes to clean. The floor was as blue as water, decorated with moving projections, text and moving arrows leading you all throughout the damn place. Making Austin connect this place with the cathedral made by that gay christian dude. Plato, right? Or something, he sorta failed history. Well, he failed a lot more than history but that's irrelevant.

The building was lit by floating mechanical flame bots. The cute type. Singing songs as they welcomed the visitors one by one, recommending him, Rio and Miles to go to the gift shop after they were done. Which the woman took note of. And finally the crowd of like minded adults and children halted. The lobby door then shut. Entrapping the people into the belly of the beast. The large room is dim blue in hue, and the only light source being the wisp bots from earlier. Eventually said bots began to sing, sing so loud that Miles couldn’t even hear his cousin ask unnessary and idiotic questions anymore. Which he was especially grateful for as the harmonies were so beautiful. And if you listened closely, you could hear that their ballads were about the periodic tables and more.

“So are they just gonna sing the whole time?” Austin yelled into his cousin's ear. 

“Of course not you dunce.” Miles answered, before looking back at the wisps. “They’re preparing the actual show.”

Ouch. but expected. But after a while of staring, the kids legs grew weak, as his bladder was meeting its maker. And after announcing his aunt that fact, he was off exploring as where the hell a bathroom is located in this. Meanwhile the singing continued, making the suspicious noise coming from Miles' backpack go unnoticed. But come on, bathroom. Bathroom. That has to be around here somewhere, right? Austin walked up and down the room, politely weaving through the crowd. His bladder is growing less and less patient. Causing his speed to advance and to grow sloppy around others. Bumping around what seemed like far too many people. Mumbling embarrassed apologies until he ran into a man that sounded suspiciously like-

“Dad?”

The dark silhouetted man did not respond. Not at all. In fact, he continued walking, so painfully silent Austin was beginning to wonder is he just bumped into a bot instead. But nevertheless he continued following the figure as sneakily as a dorky, five foot and six inches teenager could muster being. And then the singing stopped ever so suddenly. As if someone shut them down. Only for the walls to glow intensely with a bright white light. Enough to blind someone, but also get a good look at the tall shadow he has been tailing. Which indeed was his father. So impulsively, Austin called out to him once more. Causing him to book it. Shoving others out of his way as the voice of Harry Osborn began his utterly boring lecture. But of course, Austin followed him, the light from his hands and shoes being a real lifesaver into keeping him hot on his trail. Waltzing and exiting random rooms he didn’t have time to check it he was allowed in said rooms in the first place. Thinking he was finally able to at least grab onto his goofy get up, Austin trips. Falling face first into an obscure room with no light to be found. 

His eyes narrowed, as if that’ll help combat the lack of light. Putting his hands in front of him like a fool, in order to not knock something expensive over. But he did, something glass. Something that will affect the rest of his life. Something furry. Something that had eight legs. Something that-

A flick. The lights returned, revealing Spider-Man who also happened to be in here. “Asshole?” his head tilted, stepping slowly towards the boy. “The hell are you doing here?”

Said asshole didn’t even notice the multitude of spiders crawling around his sorry little body. “I was just- I-”  
“Where's the other kid?” the arachnid asked impatiently, not even noting the spider army all around the boy.   
Austin's eyebrows lowered, his eyes focusing on the box he was gripping. “Wait, why….?”

“Look, just-”

Spontaneously, there was a sound of a denotation outside. Causing both of them to turn at the direction of the followup shrieking from the other room. Unfortunately that was not a wise decision for Austin to make, for it caused a harrowing sting of pain from the back of his neck spread all over him. Thus generating weakness from his legs, so much weakness his face almost met the pavement had it not been for the vigilante who caught him just in time, flicking away the other spiders from him, calling out and asking if he was alright. Which gained no response from him.

Similarly, was the devils of hell's kitchen doing a resembling thing to Miles, who was lying limp on the ground, surrounded by chemicals and broken glass. His hands bloody as getting the brunt of the chemical burst that erupted from the energy source. 

“What happened?” he weakly asked.

“Kid, don’t move.” Matt pleaded, his heart racing. Pressing a hand on him.  
“Where is- where’s my mom?” Miles begged, attempted to rise, only to be pushed down again.   
Daredevil's head turned swiftly to Wade, who had said woman in his arms. He shook his head at the devil in grief. 

“Don’t worry about that right now, okay? Okay? Just- focus on me.” Matthew heaved. His words coming out too fast, practically incomprehensible. “SOMEBODY GET SOME HELP.” the catholic man asked God up above. Feeling the pit in his stomach multiply.

“Shit, it burns.” and finally, the boy said the words Matt was hoping to Jesus he wouldn’t utter. “It burns so much!” he cried out, putting his hands to his eyes.

The rational thinking within the man was now lost, as he intrusively wiped the liquid from Miles' eyes despite how unsteady his arms were at the moment, “Close your eyes, kid. Close your eyes, please.” Matthew prayed, still rubbing even against the boys protests to stop.

And then he said it. The thing that impaled Matthew’s heart. “I-”

“I can’t see.”

Daredevil didn’t even have a response ready for that. It was like a terrifying church bell that rang too loud.

_ “I can’t see!” _


	7. The Begrudging Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God damn it, fine. You can be an idiot like the rest of us.

Waking up is one thing. The place where you wake up and the people you are with when you do are another. And oftentimes the second thing is so overwhelming you wonder why you woke up at all, really. But every day you do. Everyday you have to face it. No matter how painful each and every day ensuing Rio Morales death was. Because you still had school, you still had your band that needed you, your mother even if she was getting better just as Terry said. 

And lastly, your pipsqueak of a cousin needed you. He needed you since the funeral really. He needed you since he vowed to never play the piano again. He needed you because his mother was gone and he couldn’t help but blame himself for it. He needed Austin because family does mean everything to him now. 

And Austin will be honest. So did he. Even if he was a dick, even if he was so adamant in believing that just because he was blind didn’t mean anything had to change. Even if he was so quiet that he went days without speaking, even if he was filled with so much fury he lashed out at you. Austin needed him just as much. Because sure, the kid could be unpredictable, an asshole, and overall insufferable. But damn, was it better than spending any moment by himself. Alone with his thoughts. The explosion and screaming replaying in his head could only be silenced by other noises.

And it was better to spend any time thinking about why sometimes he wakes up on the ceiling, or breaks plays and glasses just by gripping them a little too hard. Or why his reflexes were saving him from being yesterday's rat lunch. Miles needed him for busying reasons as well. Seeing as the music from the city became shrieks and cries Miles could no longer see as his warm and gentle fire. Instead it was cold, sharp and torturous. But focusing on Austin’s idiotic babbling made it seem so small. Even for a couple of seconds.

Because the only other thing that would also do that same thing for him, was technically illegal. But just in his eyes. For every other night, Miles would run down his fire escape, a Jason mask equipped to his face and his old baseball bat. His heart was the only thing he could hear. Despite his violent actions filed by revenge, Miles felt oddly at peace. Finding an escape on the streets, mashing peoples faces in with no judgement of being a blind helpless kid. Not anymore. Not out here. Not when-

A large figure then landed behind him. His scent instantly announces it to miles. Daredevil. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing, Miles?”

“Who's Miles?” the kid asked.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” Without another word, The devil stepped closer to the boy, his stance ever so steady. Yet his eyes were small, sorrowful, not like the sightless boy. “You need to go home.”

“I don’t remember asking.” the boy spat, stepping back, pointing his bat at him to really get some distance from him. “You are not the boss of me.” Miles' posture stood tall now, in front of the man, “No one is.” and with that, lodged the baseball bat into the man's groin, before sprinting off. He does not have time for bickering with some jackass. He has actual work you see, amatuer detective work sure but detective work nonetheless. See, Miles isn’t a dumbass. He is a goddamn child prodigy, he knows that his mother's death will be an unsolved case. He knows that the man who killed her, he knows that he will walk free. That is, if he doesn’t step in and do something. Which he is. And he will not let some demon of hell's kitchen stop him from mashing his face in until he looks like an abstract painting. 

And so on, the kid was off, using his scent to track the familiar gunpowder smell like a bloodhound, his pace speeding as apparently Daredevil didn’t get the memo. God, how many times are they gonna do this? It’s gotta be the sixth time this week. It's getting old, and fast. What is it with vigilantes and being so damn stubborn? Thank god he’s just looking for his mother's killer, he would hate to be one of these assholes. I mean seriously, they don’t have their lives together, they break the law like it’s meant to be broken. Not to mention that-

There was a sudden anchor on the boys hood, leaving him kicking and squirming practically in midair. And keeping him from accidentally falling off the building. Though being honest, Miles would rather test his fate with God rather than being stuck with the red man. 

“Ugh.” the boy groaned. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

The demon hung the boy onto a ledge corner on the roof. “I could ask you the same thing.” he huffed, his hand reaching out for the bat, the boy still clenching with all of his thirteen year old might. And then after having a small squabble of strength, the man obviously won, considering that the boy let the rage inside of him control him, drowning out the actual host of the body down somewhere he could no longer be found. Fusing him with the deadly sin of wrath. It will not be long until his fuel runs out. Matt knows it. Because he was him. So much so that it made his heart ache. 

“You better give that back.” 

“That isn’t how this works, Miles.” 

“I don’t know who Miles is.”

Daredevil put a hand to his face. “Jesus Christ, kid.” Not-miles was right, this was aging, but not like fine wine. More like…rotting cheese. The type that stank, the type that stuck with you. That made you want to do anything to get the smell out. The type that would make you throw out the boys bat off the rooftop against the boys wishes. “You need to go home, like I said.”

“And you think throwing out my bat would do that?”  
Daredevil didn’t answer. “That's not why I did that.”

“Then why did you?”

“To show you how easy it is to do so.”

“But it took you like, weeks.”

The devil of hell's kitchen sighed, then put his hand to his left ear. Humming attentively as if someone was communicating with him. At first, Miles was puzzled at but after weeks of that, he chalked it up as a puppet and its master's situation. So he took his time to try to wriggle out of his hoodie. Unluckily for him, the devil caught on, readjusting him once more, while still mumbling to someone on the other end. The voice was rather youthful, reminding the boy of his older sister, Billie, who would bring college friends from Mercury to meet the family during break. Yet seemed argumentative as well. Talking fast as if it wasn’t exactly english he was speaking. Which it wasn’t. As the devil responded to the voice in rage, and the language he was speaking was far from any language the boy knew. Thankfully though, all those years of watching anime with his sister against his will was somehow helpful in this situation.

“Wait, you know Japanese?” 

The man didn’t respond, as still busy bickering with the voice. Beginning to pace the rooftop as if Miles wasn’t even there. But whatever it was, it seemed important. And looked like the demon was losing. As if the person was there with the other two. This was new. And irregular, as throughout the many and many weeks he has never been the loser of whatever fight he has been a part of. Not even when going against those groups of guys with laser cannons. Or the ninjas with holographic katanas. It was as if there was nothing that could stop him. Especially not some vocal altercation. He was excellent at those, except when against Morales himself. No, Miles was a debate team champion, he was basically equals with this guy. He knew how to talk sure, but it wasn’t like this guy was a lawyer or anything. Actually, now that he thought about it. Miles had no idea what this douchebag did when not kicking ass. It seemed like a fulltime job. He never really thought about it until now actually. Huh. 

Although before Miles could make his grand escape after staring at the peculiar performance, there was a swift turn around, making the boy feel chills down his spine. Now recalling that his bat took a swan dive off the building and entirely out of his reach. He was defenseless against this man. He could do anything to him. Sure, he knew his idiotically moral code was against killing, but he heard the bones cracking, he knew the sound of bionic arms anywhere. The devil of hell's kitchen was not one to be fucked with. Hence why he never tried to. He always ran. Because an ass beating was not exactly he needed. He needed to find his mother's killer. He needed all his limbs for that. 

The man in red took a couple steps forward. “Do not bite me.” he ordered, a smart move, good thing the man learned from pulling that stunt the other night. “Can you promise me that?”

“Are you gonna hurt me?”

“When have I ever hurt you?”

“You hurt me whenever you open your big dumb mouth.”

And with that, Matt tugged Miles hood with offense, like a mother picking up her mischievous child, neglecting to acknowledge its meows in protest to be put down. 

Meanwhile in manhattan, away from the falling baseball bats in the sky and grumpy felines, was Austin. Trying not to draw too much attention to himself ironically while calling out for his cousin. It wasn’t like him, to suddenly disappear, right? No, where is he gonna go? And how is he gonna get there? That boy has as much coordination as a cartoon character after they get kissed. Oof, that thought led to another thought, of the possibility he was taken. Oh god, that’d fucking suck. Well, fucking suck is an understatement. But the image of the only police officer actually doing more than dick to find him being his father didn’t sit well in his stomach. In fact, it makes him feel sorta sick, like really nauseated. 

He was getting this feeling more often actually now that he thought about it. Terry chalked it up to anxiety when he told him, but Austin knew anxiety. And it wasn’t that. It was like, screaming, up and down his spine. And then chills all over his body. Amped up blood pressure. Not to mention the feeling as though he is constantly about to fall off. Off of what? He has no idea. But that's not even the tip of the iceberg of the shit he’s been trying and failing to ignore. But he doesn’t have time for that. His cousin could be anywhere in this city. Literally anywhere. So he can’t just think about-

“Hey kid.” 

Austin turned ever so quickly behind him, to get a better look at the familiar sounding voice. “Spider-Man.” he sighed in relief. “You scared the living shit out of me.” he chuckled, as the arachnid flipped down to the teen.   
“Sorry about that.” 

“No, no it’s fine.” Austin then scanned the man up and down. “Sorry its just- now that we’re not in an awkward situation, it’s-”  
“A lot, right?” the man put his hands on his hips. “I get it.” 

“Oh, good. Good…” the boy glared down at his feet, the odd feeling from earlier returning except...it was intensifying. Accelerating, making both groan as apparently the famed vigilante also was feeling it. It was pure stabbing, in his brain, his stomach, his legs, arms. And felt like an eternity. The tightness in their chest making them fear loss of oxygen was next. But thankfully, it never got that far. Their odd illness is finally dying down. “Fucking hell,” the teen groaned, “You felt that too?”

The masked hero simply stared at the kid, still catching his breath. And while almost impossible to tell what the hell he was thinking, it was definitely a different state from earlier.   
“Uh, you alright? Spider….dude?”

That was followed by more uncomfortable staring. 

“Hello? Earth to spider-man.”

“Holy shit.” the man finally uttered. His extensive large white eyes grew in size immensely. He fixes his posture, standing upright to the boy. Pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re like me!”

The boy laughed at that nervously, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.”  
“I assure you dude, I don’t.” his head scanned the empty alleyway nervously, in case someone, literally anyone was listening.   
“Come on kid, I get it.” the spider then places his hands on the kids shoulders. “So how did you get the powers?”

The boy backs away from him, his breathing beginning to spike. “Powers? Dude, I don’t have any-”

Before Austin could even finish, he was shushed, finger on mouth and all. Spider-Man gripping his shoulder, waiting. Okay so maybe they have the same weird feeling in common, but that’s all there is to it. There cannot be any other-

A flash of purple light blinded the boy, as it lunged towards his human shield instantly. Causing Austin to be pushed to the hard, dirty alley wall in attempts to save his skin. The spider even commanded him to go. But the boy did not waver. Realizing where exactly he had seen that tacky getup from before. That day Aunt Rio died. It seemed like years ago. Making Austin blink twice to check if this really was the man that killed her all those weeks ago. But not only that, but if the man that killed her was….

“No.” it can’t be. He’s busy getting money for mom, not killing people. No way. 

The fighting was halted, as the killer's eyes moved from Spider-Man to Davis. And without hesitation, the arachnid socked him in the jaw. The impact enough made him fall to the ground. “Don’t you dare.” spidey exhaled. “He’s just a kid.”

The boy didn’t delay, and instantly stepped forward, lunging his leg into the fallen man's torso. “That’s for my Aunt.” he spat, letting the noise of his groan fill his ears. And then he did it again, even harder this time. “And THAT’s for my cousin you blinded, bitch.” and he continued, kicking, and kicking, and kicking, until finally-

“Alright kid, that’s enough.” Spider-man pulls him back, against his screams of what a monster the light up sketchers man was. “We don’t kill.”

In an apartment in hell's kitchen, the same phrase is being uttered. “We don’t kill.” the devil begins, “Even if said person killed our mother.”

The morales kid tied to the chair scoffed at that. “I don’t remember this being a we. if you don’t recall, I hate you with every fiber of my being.”

“You hate a lot of things, Miles.”

“That’s not my name.”

A third person then sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re going after that name people on the streets are calling you.” the third person ran his fingers through his black, silky hair, exhausted by this back and forth.

“I’m sorry, who the hell are you again?” not-miles head tilted in direction of the new voice. But then he hummed, as if finally putting two and two together. “You’re the one pulling the strings.”

“What?” the puppet master said. “No, what? That doesn’t even- ugh, whatever. I’m Blindspot. And you’re Hell Bent.”

Daredevil raised an eyebrow at that. “Hell Bent, huh?” his lips creasing into an innocent grin. “Cute. I like it.”

“It’s not supposed to be cute, idiot. It’s supposed to represent how menacing I am after I find my Moms killer, and kill him.”

Blindspot burst out in laughter at that, wheezing and everything. “My god Matt, you didn’t say he was this edgy.”

Meanwhile, back with the spider duo, the murderer was gone, as soon after the boy stopped kicking, he hightailed it all the way back to whatever shithole he came from. Leaving the two alone again. 

“So your name is Peter Parker.”

“Yep.”

“And you were bit by a radioactive spider at oscorp.”

“Mhm.”

“And became spider-man?”

“Later down the line, but yeah.”

Holy shit. And Austin means holy shit. Like, holy shit. He’s just like him. He is just like Peter Parker, he is just like fucking SPIDER-MAN! Oh my god, he’s just like spider-man. Oh my god he’s just like Peter Parker. 

“I’m gonna get the living shit get beat out of me.” Austin gasped, his eyes widening at the mere thought of someone like the goblin socking him straight in the jaw. “Am I gonna die?”

“What?” Peter glared at him in confusion. “Kid, no, you’re fine. Listen, you don’t have to-”

“Yes I do.” Austin interrupts. His eyes brown, milky and clear. Never once faltering. He was serious. “I have to stop people like the ones who killed my Aunt.” 

Under the mask, the young adult beamed at him. “Attaboy.”

One more time, in the apartment, there sat the batless boy. “I have to do this.” 

“Not necessarily.” Matt crossed his arms, shadowing the boy. “We could find your mother’s killer.”

“Like hell I’d let you do that.” Hell bent responds bluntly. 

“And like hell are we gonna let you do that alone.” Blindspot snaps back. “Do you have idea what type of man you are going up against?”  
Finally, back to the spiders.

“No, I...haven’t actually thought about that.” Austin sheepishly admits. “Is he really the kingpins right hand man?”

“Kid, he is the kingpin.”

“WHAT?”

“TEMPORARILY.” Peter elaborates. “But still, top of the food chain kid.”

“So, what exactly does top of the food chain mean again?”

“Means we got a shit ton of work to do if we wanna take him down.” Peter puts plainly.

“But don’t worry, I got a friend in hell's kitchen who could help us out.”


End file.
